


The Howling

by Aeruthin



Category: The Originals (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Fever Dreams, Flashbacks, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt!klaus, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Graphic Violence, Pre-Canon, Protective Elijah Mikaelson, Protective Rebekah Mikaelson, Protectiveness, Sibling Love, Werewolf Bites, Werewolves, Whump, protective!Elijah, protective!Rebekah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23464312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeruthin/pseuds/Aeruthin
Summary: The last time Klaus, Elijah and Rebekah encountered werewolves it had been in their home village over a century ago. So when they hear rumours of men who turn into wolves at night, Klaus can't help but be curious.This time, he will be more cautious. This time, it will not end like it had before.OrKlaus gets bitten by a werewolf, and it is up to Elijah and Rebekah to save him from the venom, and himself.
Relationships: Elijah Mikaelson & Klaus Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson & Rebekah Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson & Rebekah Mikaelson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

This, Klaus decides, is a mistake. 

There, he admitted it.

With a soft curse, he pulls his boot out of the mud. He could be in their little house, beneath a roof and near the fire, teasing Rebekah or annoying Elijah. Which would definitely be much more pleasant than trudging through the woods in the middle of the night with no clear sense of where he is going.

Maybe the tales of the wolves are all been made up, conceived by the villagers' fear and stupidity. After all, villagers, like most people they encountered, could not be trusted. 

What was that phrase Elijah always liked? The fool following the fool?

Klaus pushes a branch out of his way, and a cascade of water droplets rains down from the upper branches. Luckily, the real rain had stopped some time ago, which saved him from being drenched completely. 

The clouds have parted, revealing the moon, round and full, shining down on him in mockery. He can almost hear his mother, too.

 _Why must you always follow the wolves, Niklaus?_ she chides, her tone pitiful and shaking her head, watching from whatever afterlife he sent her to.

 _Because I can't help it_ , Klaus answers in his head, gritting his teeth. The full moon always makes him restless, and tonight is no different. There is a creature crawling beneath his skin and no matter how far he runs, he can never outpace it. 

Familiar anger boils inside him, and he spins around. 

"Are you happy?" he roars to the moon. 

There is no response, of course. Typical.

He huffs, and prepares to turn back and accept defeat, when another sound stops him.

It is a howl. 

He freezes, and waits. A second howl follows, answering the first. A grin spreads across his face.

"There you are," he whispers.

He flashes forward using his vampire speed now he has a clear destination. It takes him only a few minutes before he comes to a halt again, much closer to the sound. The ground slopes down steeply for at least a few metres, giving him a clear overview of the valley below.

There. 

Invisible to any human, at least seven or eight large shapes move through the trees, camouflaged by their grey fur. Their size takes his breath away, and for a moment, all he can do is stare. These are no ordinary wolves, that's for sure.

Klaus jumps down. He is right in their path, so he veers slightly to the left, and silently makes his way forward. The direction of the wind works in his advantage, masking his scent, so the wolves should not notice him before he reaches them.

Whether the wolves would identify him as predator or prey is still undecided. 

"Mother made us what we are to protect us from the wolves," Rebekah had said when they had discussed it earlier, her head held high but a slight anxious shiver in her voice. 

"We can't be certain," Elijah had added, always the reasonable one. "We have no reason to seek them out."

Klaus can hear them now, the wolves' large bodies ruffling against the trees, their paws disturbing the ground. He makes his way to a small rock formation and scales it easily. All he has to do is wait, so he kneels down and makes himself small. He can be cautious, if he needs to be.

The first wolf to emerge from the woods is a large male, his fur a dark grey. He is followed by a female, slightly smaller than he is. The alphas. The pack leaders. 

Klaus is a continent and a century away from the last time he saw werewolves, and they are still magnificent.

He can nearly feel Henrik's hand on his arm, hear his excited whispers. "Look Nik! Look!"

Klaus had hushed him. "They'll hear," he had mouthed back. They had been closer than he had wanted, but it was too late to move. Henrik's wide, awed eyes had been worth it.

Until his youngest brother moved, slipped and fell down into the werewolf den.

Klaus swallows, and pushes the memories away. Pushes away the sound of Henrik's terrified screams as the wolves picked up his presence. 

He will not make that mistake again.

The wolves move past him. They jostle each other playfully, napping at each other's tails and ears. An older, white wolf follows more slowly. The alphas wait for her to catch up, and the largest male nuzzles her ear. She lifts her head into the air and howls, and the pack joins her, bravely and pridefully announcing their presence to the world.

Klaus sits quietly after the last wolf has disappeared into the forest, the sights and sounds forever locked into his memory. 

Keeping a safe distance, he follows them. They make quite some noise, being audible even for creatures without supernatural hearing, and don't seem to have a care in the world. 

Some mile later, they stop, and Klaus halts, frowning. Had they spotted some prey? 

In hindsight, the growl should not have taken him by surprise. The white wolf should not have taken him by surprise.

 _You fool_ , Mikael spits at him. _Always so easily distracted!_

Klaus freezes. The white wolf's fur shines in the light of the moon. She lowers her head and growls again, her teeth bared. The sound reverberate through the forest as she is joined by the others of her pack.

Klaus runs. 

Like before, the wolves chase him, but he is faster this time, faster and stronger. He dodges the first two wolves, and grabs the third, slamming it into the ground. He is standing in a flash, and moving again, the pack on his heels. 

The ridge. They would not be able to scale it, and even if they found a way around it, Klaus would be able to lose them. It would not end like last time.

Henrik had been wounded badly by the first wolf attack. By some miracle, Klaus had been able to grab him. But even ordinary wolves would have caught up with him easily, and the wolves were far from ordinary.

Klaus had crashed down after a few steps, and had found himself surrounded. Panting heavily, he had held Henrik in his arms in a final, feeble attempt to protect his brother. 

The alpha had stepped towards him, his breath visible in the chilly air. As he stood over him, Klaus had realised with stark clarity that he did not want to die. He was not ready for it to be over. Despite everything, despite Mikael and all the thoughts of running away, he wanted to keep living, to keep fighting. 

Klaus had clutched his knife in a desperate grip, prepared to slash out and defend himself. But the wolf had turned away as silently as he had come, and the pack had followed, leaving Klaus holding the knife and the lifeless body of Henrik in his arms.

The ridge looms over him. Klaus prepares to leap up, but stumbles as one wolf catches his legs. He trips and crashes to the ground. Immediately, he is on his feet again, but the alpha wolf is on him, his teeth aimed at his throat, and all Klaus is able to do is lift his hands in defence.

The teeth sink into the flesh of his right arm and he howls in pain. He tries to shake him loose, but the wolf holds on tight, the heavy weight pulling Klaus down. Klaus kicks at it and hits its chest with force, his own teeth protruding in an angry snarl. The wolf backs away, its muzzle bloody. 

Klaus roars, charging forward, and the wolf flinches back. It gives Klaus the opening he needs to jump up. He pulls himself over the edge, ignoring the pain that flares up through his arm. 

The wolves circle below him, but don't try to follow. They will probably go in search for easier prey. With a final glance down, Klaus stumbles away.


	2. Chapter 2

Elijah jumps when the door of their little house slams open. Niklaus enters, a village girl in each of his arms. The scent of blood spreads through the house in their wake. Niklaus' hair is dishevelled, and he found a new tunic somewhere, probably from the girls' unsuspecting father. 

"Breakfast, Brother," Niklaus says, pushing one of the girls in Elijah's general direction. He has left the door open, so Elijah pushes it close, cutting of the sounds from the busy villagers outside. 

"What's with all the ruckus?" 

Rebekah pushes away the cloth separating the main area from their bedroom and steps out from under it, a scowl on her face. When she spots Niklaus, his fangs buried in the girl's neck, it deepens further.

"Couldn't you have returned a little bit later? I was still asleep," she pouts.

Niklaus smiles at her, his lips bloody. "Don't fuss, Sister."

He tilts the girl's head to the side. "A peace offering?"

Rebekah seems tempted, her mood already disappearing, so Elijah steps forward.

"Please keep them alive," he says. He grabs the arm of the first girl, who is staring around confusedly, and bites in her wrist. Her blood is sweet, warm and alluring and he swallows once before pushing her towards Rebekah.

He bites his own wrist next and presents it to the girl Niklaus is still holding. 

"Drink."

After her wound has closed, Elijah cleans her neck with a piece of cloth and applies the same procedure to the second girl, who has been released from Rebekah's grasp.

"Leave, and forget what happened," he compels them both. He makes sure that the door closes again behind them. 

Niklaus has settled down on one of the chairs next to the fireplace in the centre of the room, a smug grin on his face. He is a better mood than Elijah would have expected, given the full moon. Which can mean either of two things. One, he had found himself a distraction to spend the night with. Two, his actions now are the distraction.

"No need for that look, Elijah," Niklaus drawls. "I've behaved myself."

Elijah ignores him. It's far too early for a discussion, and whatever Niklaus is planning, it would reveal itself on its own terms. The girls might be part of it, or Niklaus could have dragged them in on a whim. The scent of blood lingers even after their departure.

"The Count has requested our presence today," he says instead. The Count and his family lived in the fortified castle in the centre of the village. When they'd first arrived, Niklaus had suggested forcing them out of it, but Elijah had dissuaded him. Compelling the Count to provide them with shelter and information was easier than compelling the entire village to ignore their arrival. The Count now considered them good friends.

"Rebekah's presence, more likely," Niklaus jests.

"He's disgusting," Rebekah shivers. 

"It's not like you to disregard any advances."

Rebekah grabs the nearest object, a cup, and throws it at his head. Niklaus ducks, and grimaces. 

"Missed," he chuckles, masking his wince. Elijah frowns. Rebekah hasn't noticed their brother's reaction, and is already turning away in a pout.

Elijah scans his brother again. Despite his recent feeding, he looks pale. His hair is dishevelled, and while he sits back nonchalantly, his right hand is clenched into a fist.

Niklaus tenses as he notices Elijah watching him. He stands, pushing his chair back forcefully. 

"Well, give the Count my regards," he says, striding to the door.

"Niklaus," Elijah says firmly. He takes a step forward, prepared to block his brother's path if necessary. 

Luckily, his words still seem to have some weight, because Niklaus halts and turns around. His chin is lifted defiantly, and a snarl curls his lips. Rebekah watches them carefully, having caught on to the shift in atmosphere.

Elijah approaches him. With each step he takes, the scent of blood grows stronger. It's no longer the sweet allure of the village girls, but it is laced with something vile, something rotten. The worry, which he has suppressed all night, returns with a vengeance.

"What's wrong?" Elijah asks softly, careful to keep his tone neutral. 

"I'm fine," Niklaus grumbles. But he draws back slightly, hiding his right hand behind his back.

In a flash, Elijah grabs his arm.

"Careful!" Niklaus hisses, unable to hide his wince this time. More gently, Elijah pulls back his outer sleeve, keeping one hand curled around his brother's wrist. 

The undergarments are bloodied and torn, and are stuck to a red and blistering wound. Elijah's heart pounds in his chest. The scent is nauseating. 

"When did this happen?"

"Elijah..." Niklaus tries to pull away, but Elijah tightens his grip. The look in his brother's eyes is answer enough.

"It should have healed by now," Elijah says breathlessly. His chest is painfully tight.

"It will be fine."

"Niklaus --"

"Is that a wolf bite?" 

Rebekah is staring at the wound, her lips pressed together. 

"Mother protected us against this, it will be fine," Niklaus snarls, freeing his arm with a forceful yank.

But Elijah catches his brother's gaze, and sees his own insecurity mirrored in them. Esther had given them no explanation, no guidance to handle the creatures they had become. And Niklaus... Niklaus would always be different. 

"We need to clean it," Elijah decides. 

"I'll get some wine," Rebekah says, already walking out of the door, ready to raid the Count's stocks. 

"Don't forget the leeches," Niklaus mutters, running his good hand through his hair. 

Elijah hesitates.

"You went to find them?" he asks. Ever since they had heard the rumours, he had been waiting for Niklaus to disappear and go after the wolves. 

Niklaus can't look him in the eye. 

"They were magnificent," he whispers.

  


* * *

  


Klaus clenches and unclenches his hand. The burn of the wound has spread to his whole arm, in stark contrast with the shivering which has taken over the rest of his body. It has been a long time since he has felt pain or illness like this.

Honestly, given their mother's eagerness to turn them into immortal creatures, she could have done a better job. 

The creak of the door pierces through his head, and he suppresses a moan. Elijah enters, his face in a perpetual worried state. The cold draft of the open door makes him shiver.

"I'm fine," he rasps, before his brother can say anything.

Elijah's eyes narrow. "You do not look like it."

Klaus huffs and pushes himself to his feet. The room sways, but he ignores it, gritting his teeth as pain flares up his arm. Maybe they should just cut it off and be done with it. 

"You know, Niklaus," Elijah starts. He is playing with one of the cups on the table. "It might be better this way."

Klaus frowns. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"If you were to die, Rebekah and I would be relieved of a terrible burden."

Klaus freezes. 

"What?" he manages to say.

Elijah walks around the table, fingers trailing the lines etched into the wood of the cup, his face impassive.

"Well, we are lucky you did not drag me or our sister down with you to our untimely deaths." He halts. "But it is only a matter of time."

Elijah flashes a smile, but it does not reach his cold eyes.

"We would be better off without you."

Klaus shakes his head, an angry retaliation on his tongue, when the door opens. 

Klaus' head snaps away from his brother to... his brother. Klaus' mouth goes dry. His eyes flicker to the cup, which is standing innocently next to the others. As if it has never moved at all.

"Niklaus?" Elijah's voice sounds muffled and far away.

"I'm fine," Klaus rasps. Despite himself he waits for Elijah's answer, waits for a repeat of the previous scene.

But Elijah only presses a hand against his forehead. 

"You have a fever," he says. 

The fever is messing with his head. That was the rational explanation. Not the repeat of...

"Get out," he snarls, pulling away, suddenly desperate to be alone, to deal with this himself. The walls sway and tilt around him, and he stumbles.

"I'm not leaving you, brother," Elijah says from behind him. A pause. "I would love to watch you die."

Klaus' breath catches. No. He will not listen to this. He spins back around.

"You are not real," he rasps. 

Elijah's eyes narrow in concern. Klaus hates it. 

"GET OUT!" he roars again. 

Fake-Elijah flinches, but instead of disappearing, he takes a step forward, cautiously reaching out.

"Niklaus..." 

Klaus has had enough. He slams fake-Elijah against the wall. The stones crack beneath the force, but Klaus does not care. He clenches his fingers around fake-Elijah's throat, who gasps, eyes closing.

"No more words?" Klaus grunts, increasing his hold. 

The kick comes out of nowhere. Klaus stumbles back, and Elijah grabs his wrist and twists it hard to the side. Klaus growls, but has to follow the movement to the ground before he breaks his arm. His strength leeches away as he tries to fight back, his feet slipping out from underneath him.

Elijah's arms circle around his chest from behind. He keeps hold of both of Klaus' wrists, pinning them together. Klaus struggles, his breath coming in panicked gasps, but Elijah easily holds him down. 

"I've got you, Brother," he whispers in Klaus' ear. 

Exhaustion washes over him, and his brother is holding him up now, rather than down. The last thing he hears before he loses consciousness is his brother's steady heartbeat.


	3. Chapter 3

Elijah carries Niklaus to their bed after he collapses, and gently lies him down. When Rebekah finds them moments later, she keeps her expression carefully blank. 

Niklaus' face is even paler than before. In the large bed, meant to hold all three of them, he looks awfully young.

They heat the wine Rebekah has brought and pour it over the wound. The scalded flesh heals quickly, but the wound itself remains red and angry. Rebekah slips one hand in Niklaus' and sits down on the edge of the bed. 

"I'll sit with him," she says, giving him a watery smile. "You can go, if you want. Maybe Mother's Grimoire holds some answers?"

Elijah nods, swallowing.

"I'll be back shortly," he whispers, and leaves the room in a few strides.  


* * *

  
Rebekah closes her eyes and sighs. She had not meant to dismiss Elijah like that, but she could not handle him hovering near the bed. 

She is doubtful of the Grimoire giving them any answers. They had taking it apart a thousand times, first with Kol when he was still around and later only the two of them, desperately trying to find a cure to Klaus' ailment after he killed the Hunters. She remembered nothing pertaining wolf bites.

She takes Klaus' hand in her own, trailing her fingers through his. A shiver runs through his body, and he mutters unintelligibly, turning his head to the side. His forehead is clammy, so Rebekah dips a piece of cloth in the water bowl she has placed on the bedside table, and runs it over her brother's face. Heat radiates from his skin. 

It's wrong, but familiar, seeing him like this. During the years after the Klaus killed Alexander and his comrades, he would have been screaming and yelling one day, only to stop moving altogether the next. He would sit somewhere, curled up into himself, his eyes flickering between images only he could see. 

Rebekah still can't decide which of those states had been worse.

"You really are an idiot, you know," she tells him. He mumbles again, as if in agreement. "Why did you have to go after the..." 

_...wolves?_

A young voice says to her left, bright and eager. 

_You know we can't. It's too dangerous,_ she answers. 

_Come on, her little brother pleads. You'll protect me, I know!_

The houses give way to trees, and her little brother is gone. In the distance, his laugher rings out, fading in and out, echoing through the forest. 

_Come on, Nik!_

She chases after him. Once in a while she spots him in the distance, but no matter how fast she runs, he never seems to get any closer. 

Finally, she emerges in a clearing on top of a small hill. He is standing with his back towards her, looking out over the dark forest. In the sky, the full moon spreads her light.

_Henrik?_ she whispers. Despite her worry, she is suddenly hesitant. Carefully, she reaches out to him and places her hand on his shoulder.

He turns around, but instead of her little brother's face, she is met with two glowing eyes and a jaw full of teeth.

Rebekah jerks back and crashes to the ground, her elbows digging into the dirt. It takes her a moment to realise she is back in the old house, centuries away from the last time she saw Henrik. On the bed, Nik doesn't even stir.

They never talked about Henrik, never spoke his name aloud. Sometimes, she wondered if he had existed at all. She closes her eyes. Even now, outside of the dream scape created by Niklaus' memories, she can not recall Henrik's face, nor imagine his voice. 

But she remembers that day clearly. Klaus' anguished screams and her mother's wail. Running outside to see Klaus on his knees, their brother's lifeless body in his arms. 

Elijah's urgent voice had forced her to move, and she had dragged Klaus away from the scene. For a while, they had stumbled aimlessly, her only purpose to hide from the village and their father's heavy hand. Finally, they had crashed down at one of their favourite hiding places. Elijah had found them there near sundown, both shivering due to shock and cold. 

Mikael, in his own way, had tried to teach them how to survive. He never taught them what to do when one of them didn't.

The funeral had been short. Rebekah had found a small stone Henrik had once given her, and placed it inside his grave, to remember her by in the life after death. The other villagers had kept a respectful distance, but Rebekah had glimpsed Elijah bury his head in Tatia's shoulder when they thought no one was looking, his frame shaking.

The sounds of the villagers outside penetrate into their little house. How long has it been? The sun seems to have moved past its highest point already. Men and women are scurrying about, living their short lives. Death was prevalent here too. Decease and wars took them all in the end.

On the bed, Klaus stirs. Rebekah pushes herself upright and wipes across her face, which she realises is wet from tears. 

She picks up the cloth which has fallen on the ground and rinses it in the water bowl. Klaus' breath has increased, but she is hesitant to touch him again. What if she sees something else? She does not wish to invade his privacy, but can't help but feel curious about the thoughts behind her brother's trademark smirk.

"'Bekah?"

Rebekah flinches at the soft mumble of her name.

"Nik?" she grabs his hand again. Two bleary eyes stare up at her, slightly unfocused.

"Wha..." He tries to push himself upright, but his arms are trembling. 

"Stay still," Rebekah says. "You have a fever."

Klaus continues to struggle. "I'm not..." he mumbles, his voice strained. "He mustn't..." 

Rebekah's heart clenches, and she places her hands on his shoulders.

"Father's not here, Nik," she says. 

Klaus frowns and glances around. Rebekah can see the exact moment lucidity returns to him. She has learned to recognize the signs a long time ago.

Klaus flops back down and groans, pressing a hand against his face. "I hate this," he grumbles, and Rebekah nearly sighs in relief at the angry huff in his voice.

"You should get better soon. I'm not going to play nursemaid forever," she teases. He glares at her from beneath his hair, his eyelids already drooping again. 

"Maybe you should go nurse that Count of yours," he mumbles. Rebekah hits him playfully on his arm, but pulls back as he starts to cough. He moans and closes his eyes, sinking further back into the bed. 

She sits with him for quite a while. The sun lowers in the sky until it turns red. Elijah has yet to return, and Rebekah can imagine him scouring the surrounding villages for answers. She would do so herself, but does not dare leave Klaus alone. 

She only leaves the house once, to grab the nearest villager and drag him inside. She feeds from him first, before holding the open wound on his wrist against Klaus' mouth.

Only when the man's legs give out she pulls him away and dumps him outside. He would survive, if barely. It hardly mattered. If Niklaus died, the whole village would go down with him.  


* * *

  
Water splashes around his boots as Elijah jumps down from his horse in front of the church in the village centre. While Elijah could hear the sounds of men, women and children going about their daily lives from about a mile away, now the village is deadly silent. 

After they had learned about the wolves earlier that week, Elijah had done his own research. According to an elderly man, the wolves always roamed near a village higher up the river. They had started to appear some twenty years ago, after a group of new settlers from near the mountains had arrived. 

Patiently, Elijah waits. Sure enough, some moments later three man leave the church and approach him. The one in front, a large man with blond hair and beard, walks with a confident swagger, but his fists are clenched.

"Welcome," he says. He bows and glances at the horse, as well as Elijah's expensive clothing. "My name is Duran. How can I help you, my lord?"

"Thank you. I will not stay long," Elijah answers with a smile. "Me and my company passed one of the lovely villages to the south. We heard a peculiar story about these woods. I wondered how much of it was true, and decided to pay you a visit."

He glances around the village, pretending to be a bored young nobleman. 

"Stories, my lord?" 

"About men turning into wolves." A shock goes through them, even though they carefully try to hide it. "You wouldn't know anything about that?"

"I am sorry, my lord," Duran answers. "We are a God honouring folk. There are no wolves here."

Duncan's heart is racing, as is the one of one of his friends. The dark haired man to his left, however, has remained calm. When Elijah meets his eyes, he glares back, refusing to look away. 

"That is such a shame," Elijah says, maintaining eye contact. "It is such an... interesting story."

The man tenses, his hand going to the knife at his belt. Before he can do anything, though, another voice rings out.

"Please. Why don't you come here to talk." A woman is standing in the door opening of the church. She is old, and her is a hair clear white, but she radiates an aura of strength. The three men lower their head slightly in deference. 

Elijah smiles and holds out the reins of his horse to the dark haired man. He grabs them with a scowl and immediately passes them on to Duncan as Elijah pushes past them both. 

The woman is standing inside the church, and a familiar resistance blocks Elijah's path as he approaches her. He stops, pretending to admire the building. 

"A lovely place," he says. "Someone must take great care of it."

"It is even lovelier inside," she says.

Elijah does not answer. They both know fully well that he can not enter. And just like that, all pretenses drop. The glow of the sun seems to reflect in her eyes, turning them golden.

"What do you want, vampire?" she says. Her tone is strong, but weary. She is a far cry from the savages Mikael always painted the wolves as. 

Which could not be said of her friend. The man hovers behind him in his blind spot, and Elijah suppressed the urge to lash out.

"My brother met your pack last night. He was bitten," Elijah says, cutting right to the chase. "I need a cure."

"Vampire's heal, don't they?" the man behind Elijah huffs.

"My brother has fallen ill," Elijah answers with a sideway glare. 

"So what..."

"Alfred!" the woman snaps. "Leave us."

Alfred crosses his arms, before storming away. Good. It saves Elijah from getting rid of him himself.

"Excuse him," the woman says. "Please, come in."

The resistance disperses. Slightly surprised, Elijah follows her inside. The sun shines through the little window near the roof, illuminating the altar.

"You were right," Elijah says. "It is lovelier."

"I have not encountered vampires before, although we have heard the stories," the woman says. "But if you are willing, I can accompany you to your brother. I have some knowledge of herbs. I can not promise a cure, but I will do what I can."

"Why would you help?" Elijah asks curiously.

"Your brother is suffering because of us. And I am aware that you could slaughter this village in an instant, if you so choose."

She is right, of course. While they were stronger than any human, the wolves did not stand a chance against him. If Niklaus were to die...

"I'm Elijah," he says.

"They call me Aenor."

"Let us go then, Aenor."  


* * *

  
As the last rays of the sun shine through the little window, Klaus' fever seems to be getting worse. The blood seemed to have strengthened him somewhat, but now he is tossing and turning again, mumbling nonsense and crying out at random. 

Unsure of how to help him, Rebekah drenches the cloth again, and places it on his forehead. Hopefully, it would give him some comfort, if nothing else.

"Hush," she whispers. 

_Hush_ , another voice murmurs, overlapping with her own.

Once more, the room shifts around her. She is looking up instead of down, and a face framed in golden hair hovers above her.

_Hush_ , Esther says, kind and soothing, while gently pressing her hand on her head. Her presence fills the little hut with warmth. _You will feel better soon._

_Why does he hate me?_ a small voice says.

Esther sighs and looks away, before leaning forward.

_Your father is a complicated man_ , she says. _But deep down, he loves you, Niklaus._

Niklaus doubts it, but she is his mother, and she is always right. 

_Do you hate me?_ he asks. He doesn't dare look at her face.

_Niklaus..._

Rebekah pulls away with a gasp, and her old home transforms back to the house in the village. She is trembling, and she has to clutch the sheets to keep her hands from shaking. 

"Rebekah?"

Elijah is at her side in an instant, one hand cupping her face. It's meant to be a comforting gesture, but paired with the memory of her mother's hand, she can't bear it. Abruptly, she pulls away from him, ignoring the flash of hurt and worry on his face.

"It's nothing," she says, but her throat is tight, and she has to swallow against the tears. 

Elijah takes her in, and she wants to scream. Niklaus is suffering, maybe even dying. He should be Elijah's only concern. She can not be weak. Not weak as when she stood by each time her father raised his hand against her brother. Not weak as when Henrik died and she could not stop crying for days. Not weak as when Niklaus suffered from the Curse and she could do nothing to help him. 

They were immortal and could not die. If not, what was it all worth?

"Did you find anything?" Rebekah says, breaking the silence.

As if on cue, a woman pushes away the cloth. She is small and elderly, with bright white hair which stands out in the darkness of the house.

"Who are you?" Rebekah snaps, too tired for politeness.

"She is one of the wolves."

"And you brought her here?" For a moment, Rebekah wonders if her brother has lost his mind.

"She is the only lead we have, Rebekah. We need her help."

And there it is. In Elijah's calm tone is a slight sliver of desperation, and that, more than anything, shakes her to the core.

"I'm going out," Rebekah says, pushing past the woman.

She does not look back at Klaus. This would _not_ be the final moment she ever saw him alive.


	4. Chapter 4

Elijah closes his eyes briefly before turning to Aenor and plastering a smile on his face.

"I do apologize for my Sister's tone," he says.

To her credit, Aenor only nods. "I understand," she says. 

She has brought a basket containing herbs and other tokens used during the rituals of her pack, and places it next to the bed. As an elder, she was the wolves' main guide during the nights of the full moon. During the day, she officiated marriages, attended births and tended to the sick. It was not witchcraft, she had insisted when Elijah asked, but rather a way to draw on the connections binding her pack together.

How it could help his brother, she had yet to explain. 

The sky is already darkening, so Elijah puts up some candles while Aenor prepares her basket. 

Niklaus moans when Aenor takes up his wounded arm. Elijah knows Rebekah would have done anything she could, but his fever has worsened, and the sheets are drenched in sweat. 

Aenor runs her fingers over the swollen flesh, carefully inspecting the wound. Elijah positions himself on the other side of the bed, alert on any suspicious movements.

"First," Aenor says," I shall ask his body to indicate where the problem lies." The flickering light of the candles dances across her skin. "We often perform this ritual on the humans, when they are hurt."

Elijah nods cautiously. Her heartbeat is steady, and he can detect no lies, but he is acutely aware that he could be dooming his brother by allowing this woman to help him. 

"Take his hand. Your bond with him will guide me."

Niklaus' skin is clammy and cold.

Aenor raises her hands above Niklaus' body, and start whispering softly in a language Elijah doesn't recognize. 

The chanting increases in volume, and the candles burn brighter, casting shadows on the walls. Elijah stiffens, instinctively bracing against the magic. Niklaus' hand starts to burn against his, and for a moment, he imagines he can feel the pain of his brother's wound on his lower arm.

Suddenly, Aenor frowns. The rhythm of her chant shifts, and at the same time, Niklaus cries out, his body arching. 

"What is happening?" Elijah demands. 

Aenor shakes her head and steps away. She opens her mouth to say something, but Niklaus screams again. His eyes fly open and frantically search the room. His breath is coming in short, shallow gasps. 

Elijah places his hand on his cheek.

"Brother, look at me. Look at me."

Niklaus' frantic gaze locks onto him. The fear on his face makes Elijah's heart clench. 

Niklaus starts coughing fiercely, and Elijah pulls him upright, supporting him as the coughs wreck his body. Shivering, Niklaus buries his head in Elijah's shoulder, who immediately circles his arms around him. 

"It hurts," Niklaus whimpers, and Elijah pulls him closer.

"I've got you," he murmurs over and over again, stroking Niklaus' back and hair. It feels awfully inadequate, but all he can do is hold him and pray it is not for the last time. 

Finally, Niklaus calms down again, his body slumping against Elijah's.

Alive. He is still alive. 

Elijah presses his head against his brother's and allows himself a moment to listen to his heartbeat, relief interlaced with exhaustion. 

Then he lifts his head, and looks up at Aenor. 

She is watching them from near the bed. To Elijah's surprise, she seems angry.

"You did not mention you are like us," she says with a glance at Niklaus. "That you used to be wolves."

"Only my brother is," Elijah says. 

She narrows her eyes in suspicion, so he adds, "We don't share the same father."

It feels like a betrayal, somehow, exposing his family's secrets.

Aenor turns her attention back to Niklaus.

"It is there, but I could hardly feel it." She pauses thoughtfully. "It is almost as if it is locked away." 

Elijah's mouth goes dry. 

"Vampires are a curse on this earth," Aenor barks suddenly. "He used to be a wolf, proud and noble, and now, he has been ruined."

"My sister and I used to be human," Elijah says softly, meeting her angry glare. "Now help, or I'll show you how much of a curse we can be."

The old woman clenches her jaw, and for a moment, Elijah thinks she is going to refuse. But then she deflates, and reaches for her basket. 

"This paste will slow the venom, but it cannot stop it." 

She smears it over the wound. At first glance, it hardly seems to have any effect. 

"Remind him of it," Aenor says. "Of his wolf heritage. It might be the only way to save him."

"How?"

"That is for you to figure out." She glances at Niklaus. "Whomever cursed him did more bad than good. I will pray for you that it will not mean his end."

She gathers the rest of her supplies, and Elijah lets her go. However much he wants to, forcing her to stay would be of no use. If his brother was to die, she would not be the one to blame.

  


* * *

  


The paste on Niklaus' arm has dried up, and the flakes leave brown stains on the sheets. Rebekah returned shortly after Aenor left, a suspicious blood stain on her cheek.

Elijah nods to her, and rolls up his sleeves. 

Carefully, he places one hand on his brother's forehead and one on his chest. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes and opens his mind. Immediately, images flare to life, a mixture of experiences spanning almost two centuries. 

Before he loses himself, he focuses on his own memories of that fateful day, when the light of the full moon had revealed their mother's greatest secret. 

After they were turned, they no longer feared the wolves. Instead, they revelled in their new found strength, speeding through the forest, and trying to ignore the hunger which always stirred inside. 

Elijah had lost his siblings in the darkness, until a scream had pierced the air. He found Niklaus on the ground, awful shivers racking through his body. Mikael blocked his path before he could reach him, and Elijah was forced to watch as his brother writhed in pain.

The transformation was slow, and Mikael had dragged Elijah away. When he finally left Elijah alone, his brother had been gone. The only thing Elijah could do was follow the tracks leading into the forest.

The wolf had looked at him with golden eyes. His breath had made clouds into the night air, and his fur had glowed in the moonlight. 

Magnificent, Niklaus had called them. Magnificent he was. And terrifying.

_Niklaus?_ Elijah had approached him cautiously. A low growl had rumbled through the forest, and the wolf had bared his teeth. 

For a moment, the scene shifts, and he is looking at himself from Niklaus' point of view. The effect is nauseating, and Elijah has to suppress the urge to pull away. Other wolves shift in and out of view around them, but whenever Elijah tries to look at them properly, they dissolve. With an effort, he drags himself back to his own body, concentrating solely on Niklaus' form.

Finally, two wolves emerge and remain solid. They flank Niklaus on both sides, but Elijah can not tell if they are protective, or controlling.

On Niklaus' left stands a white female, her muzzle stained in red. On his right stands a male, the pattern on his fur similar to Niklaus' own. He is larger than Niklaus is, and muscles ripple beneath his skin as he throws back his head and howls.

Niklaus and the female follow suit, and the sound echoes through the forest. It takes Elijah's breath away, due to a mixture of both awe and fear. The sound is beautiful, but one fact had been ingrained in him since birth, and enforced each night he spend hiding in the caves beneath their village: the wolves' howls meant death.

When the wolves lower their heads, three pair of eyes lock unto him.

It is the only warning before they charge.

Elijah flinches back, pulling away from the memory just before the wolves' teeth sink into his flesh. He stumbles backwards, and it takes him a moment to get his bearings. 

On the bed, Niklaus is sitting upright, panting heavily. When he meets Elijah's gaze, his eyes flash golden, and his teeth are bared in a snarl.

Niklaus flings himself at him, and Elijah crashes against the wall. Pain shoots through his head as it hits the stones, and for a second he is too dazed to react. Instinctively, he pushes Niklaus away, barely in time as Niklaus snaps at his throat. 

Niklaus twists in and grabs Elijah's now outstretched arms. With a quick pull, he throws Elijah over his shoulder and slams him into the ground. Elijah gasps as the air is knocked out of his lungs. 

Elijah tries to turn over, but Niklaus has already pinned him down, using his full weight to prevent him from throwing him off.

And then Niklaus slams his hand inside Elijah's chest. Elijah's awareness hones in on the flare of pain. All he can feel is the sensation of his brother's fingers tightening around his heart, and his heavy weight pressing down on him.

Niklaus brings down head.

"You took it from me," he whispers into Elijah's ear. "You made me weak."

His hand tightens some more, and Elijah lets out an involuntary moan. He can taste the blood in his mouth, and black spots dance across his vision.

"I will never forgive you."

Niklaus draws back and pulls. A scream tears from Elijah's throat, but before he blackens out completely, Niklaus' grip slackens. As soon his weight disappears, Elijah curls on his side, coughing fiercely, the broken ribs crating against his lung.

Slowly, his flesh starts to put itself back together, and the pain fades to an ache. 

Rebekah is sitting against the bed frame, Niklaus pulled against her. His face is an ashen gray, with dark veins just below the skin. Rebekah is holding the stake loosely in her hand.

"That's enough of that," she says, with a small shiver in her voice.

Elijah is too drained to respond. Still slightly shaking, he takes Niklaus from Rebekah's arms and places him back on the bed. Then he sinks down next to her, their shoulders touching. Together, they sit until the first rays of the sun shine over the horizon.

  


* * *

  


As the image of his mother's bloody heart slowly fades away, Klaus starts crawling his way back into consciousness. His body aches all over, and when he finally musters the strength to open his eyes, the sharp glare of the sun is blinding. He groans, blinking rapidly.

Something moves to his right. A bed, his mind registers belatedly. He is lying in bed.

A face dances in front of him, blurry through his tears.

"Nik?" Rebekah whispers. 

"What?" he mumbles, urging his foggy mind to get back into gear. 

Instead of answering, she grabs his right arm and pulls it towards her. She trails his skin with her fingers, and he shivers.

"It's gone," she says quietly. "Elijah, it's gone!"

The world shifts as she pulls him up into a hug, so strong he can barely breath.

"'Bekah," he gasps, trying to push her off, fighting a wave of dizziness. "Stop..."

She draws back and glares at him. 

"Don't ever scare us like that again, Nik!" 

And then it clicks. The wolves. The bite. The fever dreams and hallucinations. Just like... 

"How long?" he rasps, his stomach clenching, desperately scanning his surroundings. They still look familiar, but Klaus has been wrong before. Had it been a day? Two days? A year? 

"You were bitten the previous night," Elijah answers. He is hovering behind Rebekah's shoulder, a guarded smile on his lips. Klaus slumps down in relief. 

Elijah's next words are quiet.

"We thought you might die." 

Klaus stares at him. Death. The concept had become so foreign, Klaus can hardly comprehend it. He forces down a hysterical laugh. What would Mikael say if he died a thousand miles away from him, and because of some wolves? 

"I'm fine," he says, realizing he had let the silent stretch. 

"Well," Rebekah says, cheerily breaking the moody atmosphere. "Let's celebrate. Are you hungry?"

"Ravenous," Klaus says. 

Rebekah jumps from the bed. "There is a blond haired girl I think you might like," she says with a smile. "She looks like me." She slips beneath the cloth and the door closes behind her.

Elijah remains hovering near the bed, and Klaus unconsciously curls his right hand in the sheets, trying to shift away from his brother's heavy gaze. There is blood on his shirt, Klaus notices now his eyes have adjusted to the light.

"How much do you remember?" Elijah asks finally, breaking the silence. 

"Enough," he answers. And he does. While he can't recall every detail, he got the general gist of it. The final memory stands out the most. His mother's frightened face. Her pleading tone. 

"I had to enter your mind," Elijah says. "I'm sorry."

Klaus's heart skips a beat, and his thoughts start racing, searching desperately for a way out. 

"What did you see?" he rasps. 

Part of him wants to scream, to drown out Elijah's answer before he can give it, but he doesn't move, doesn't make a sound. 

He just waits until Elijah's eyes turn cold.

"The moment you turned, the first time."

Elijah's voice pierces through his scrambled thoughts, and it takes him a moment to understand that his brother won't condemn him.

"There was another wolf. He looked like you."

"It might have been my father," Klaus says absentmindedly, willing his heart to stop racing. 

Elijah nods and looks away. Klaus narrows his eyes. Clearly, there is something else on his brother's mind. 

"Elijah?" he prompts. 

Elijah's gaze keeps flickering away, but before Klaus can tell him to get on with it, his jaw clenches.

"Brother, the curse, I know you will never..."

He trails off. Never what? And then Klaus notices the blood on Elijah's shirt again. 

_I will never forgive you_ , he had whispered, just before he had ripped out his mother's heart.

Elijah must have heard.

"I did not mean that," Klaus says quickly. 

Elijah stares at him, and Klaus begs him silently to let it go. They never talked about that moment, and Klaus really does not want to delve into it now. 

Finally, Elijah lets out a shuddering breath, and visibly pulls himself together.

"I'll get you some fresh water," he says. "Rebekah should be back soon."

Klaus rests his head in his hands after Elijah has left. 

Honestly, being bitten by a werewolf sucks.

  


* * *

  


Klaus feels much better after he has fed. The wound has fully disappeared, and his skin is left unscarred. It is as if the whole ordeal has never happened at all. Only his torn shirt marks the wolf attack. That, and his siblings' furtive glances. 

"I'm not going to drop dead," he snaps at them a few days later. At least they have the courtesy to look guilty.

The mood lifts after that, but the house remains gloomy. None of them sleep well, and the small house has become suffocating.

"Let's move on," Klaus suggests on an early morning about a week after he has recovered. "I am done with this place."

Elijah looks up. 

"We could travel west," he says. "I've heard rumors of a resurgence of ancient Latin and Greek texts in France."

Klaus turns to Rebekah.

"Only if you buy me something pretty," she says cheekily. "And doesn't that Richard fellow live near there as well? What did they call him?"

"The Lionheart," Klaus answers. "And of course I will get you something, Sister. Although we both know I won't pay for it."

"All in favour, then?" Elijah says, a small smile on his lips. He lifts his hand.

Klaus and Rebekah follow suit, and Klaus grins. He jumps up.

"Does that mean the Count is free game?"

"I'll race you to him," Rebekah grins. 

"Niklaus, Rebekah, please..."

Klaus laughs as he walks outside, his siblings on his heels. They will get Finn's coffin and find themselves a ride. Being on the road again would bring its own hardships, but they would be bearable.

After all, he had his own pack with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading!


End file.
